


User Friendly

by signifying_nothing



Category: K-pop, iKON (Kpop), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: M/M, eonnie's famous crossovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 12:36:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6195358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signifying_nothing/pseuds/signifying_nothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>bobby and yoongi have a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	User Friendly

**Author's Note:**

> reposted by request from a now defunct lj.  
> there is mention of filming happening w/o the subjects knowledge near the end.

Min Yoongi is damned talented and he knows it. He works fucking hard on everything he does and frankly he's a little sick of being shit on. Despite how Namjoon and Hoseok attempt to talk him down, he's decided he's going to go beat the shit out of Bobby Kim. He's a fucking prick who needs to stop running his goddamned mouth, needs to stop being such a piece of shit.

There's just one problem with his plan.

Bobby's fucking gorgeous, and the two of them have _history_. History that's still happening.

Namjoon and Hoseok don't know a lot of shit about Yoongi, and he'd prefer to keep it that way, for now— but Bobby, in that nasty diss track that he'd released— _Sugar,_ he'd called the fucking song _Sugar—_ implied... Well. He'd implied shit and Yoongi isn't happy about it. What happens between the two of them is private business and he doesn't need Bobby throwing it up all over the fucking internet just because he's horny and Yoongi told him to fuck off.

But Yoongi knows the way to the studio Bobby works at and he smiles when Jiho lets him through without a fuss. Jiho knows Namjoon and thus knows Yoongi, and Yoongi knows that Jiho thinks this shit is fucking hilarious because he always does, as long as it doesn't involve him directly. “Sup Sugar,” he teases as Yoongi walks by, chuckling at the younger man's murderous glare and holding his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Try to leave him in one piece, okay?”

“I'll think about it,” he growls, heading down the hallway.

When he opens the unlocked door, Bobby is in the room by himself. He looks amazing, like he always does, and Yoongi hates him even more for a moment. His broader shoulders, his dark hair, he's taking care of himself these days and it shows and Yoongi _hates it._ Then he closes the door and locks it and Bobby looks up from the console, a slow smile pulling across his face to show his white, slightly crooked teeth and his devastating eyesmile.

“Sup,” he asks, sitting back in his chair and smirking. Yoongi wants to rip his face off.

“What the _fuck._ ”

“What,” Bobby asks, making his best innocent face. Yoongi isn't fooled for a goddamned second. He stalks towards the other man and puts his arms on the sides of the chair, leaning in uncomfortably close. Bobby's breath smells like cinnamon gum.

“You piece of shit. What the _fuck_ was that about.”

“What? I thought it was _diss Yoongi_ week. I mean, everyone else was doing it.”

Which is true. Yoongi's been attacked from all sides for about three weeks; he's been feeling like a cornered animal and just when things had started to calm down, Bobby had—

“You're an asshole,” Yoongi starts, and Bobby smiles up at him. “Why the fuck do you have to do that shit, huh? What, you think you're gonna drag me down so you can fucking step on me like you did Minwoo and Kwangmin? What.”

“Did I touch a nerve, Min Yoongi?” Bobby asks, jerking upright and shoving his chair back, knocking Yoongi off balance and into his chest. He pushes Yoongi away, smirks when Yoongi's smaller body hits the wall. “Maybe I should have called the song _Jimin_ instead.”

Yoongi's clenched fist hits Bobby square in the jaw. It hurts his knuckles but his blood pressure is up and he's _pissed,_ because how fucking _dare_ Bobby talk about Jimin— Jimin, who's finally making a name for himself on the dance circuit, who is finally happy with the young man he's dating, who finally has a circle of friends who love and accept him after so long going without.

“Don't you fucking dare talk about Jimin,” Yoongi snarls and Bobby laughs, shoving Yoongi again, grinning when he hits the shelves this time, knocking shit over and yelping in pain. Yoongi is smaller than Bobby now. He hadn't always been.

“Make me stop,” he says. “Not my fault you spent the last three years fucking around with him. Or was it just him fucking you, Yoongi.” There's a queer look in Bobby's eyes and Yoongi shoves him as he gets up, baring his teeth.

“So what if he was,” Yoongi says, pushing Bobby into the console, using all of his anger to fuel himself because if he doesn't he'll never be able to get Bobby off him. “So fucking what, Kim Jiwon, are you still pissed I didn't say yes to _you_?” Yoongi knows he's hit the nail on the head when Bobby reaches out and grabs him by the lapels, yanks him close enough for him to smell that cinnamon gum. He fists his fingers in the material of Bobby's hooded sweatshirt. “You are. You fucking petty-ass _child._ ”

“Shut the _fuck_ up,” Bobby hisses and Yoongi grins, breathless, leaning in to bite Bobby's pouty bottom lip hard enough to cut the flesh, hard enough that Bobby nearly throws him into the console, fucking up all the settings before pinning him there with his weight. This is all so familiar only now, Yoongi doesn't have Jimin to go back home to.

“Is that was this is about, Jiwon,” Yoongi asks, looking down at their bodies before looking up at Bobby. “You want to fuck me all the time and you can't admit it so you try to fucking _out me?"_ Coming out would be the death of Yoongi's career. There was a reason he'd asked Jimin not to talk about it. Luckily they'd parted amicably, and Yoongi had let him go without too much external fuss and a whole lot of internal self-loathing. But Jiwon. Yoongi can't believe he's so fucking petty. Such a fucking selfish piece of shit, like always.

“Would you have fucking come here if I hadn't?”

The simple answer to that question is no. Yoongi hasn't seen Bobby in a while, at least not in a situation where they had to talk to one another. They've been avoiding each other since Yoongi turned Bobby down a few months ago, because Yoongi'd still been with Jimin and he was trying to get his act together and focus on his career and Bobby was a punk looking for someone to fuck on the regular instead of the irregular and Yoongi hadn't been interested, _wasn't_ , but he's always thought he was good looking, even if he was a fuckstick. Now there was the problem of Bobby's breath on his neck was hot and _god_ he was gorgeous when he was pissed off and Jimin wasn't waiting for him at home anymore—

“Do you just want to fuck me, Jiwon. Is that your fucking problem?”

Yoongi wraps his legs around Bobby's hips and yanks him against his body, the instruments on the console shifting under his weight. Bobby growls and tries to push him down, one forearm across his chest and one hand clawing at the leg of Yoongi's pants.

“C'mon, Jiwon,” Yoongi whispers, lifting his hips. “Lets fuck so you can get it out of your goddamn system. That's what you want, right? Me, right here, riding my ass on your dick?” He can feel the heat of Bobby's body pressed down between his legs.

“Let go of me,” Bobby says, pushing more of his weight on Yoongi's chest. Yoongi has to gasp for breath, the pain on his sternum knocking his lungs empty. “Let _go,_ Yoongi.”

“You're hard,” Yoongi grins, laying back on the console, shifting his hips. “Cos you like the visual, don't you? I bet you beat off to it more times than you can fucking count and now, what—what, you're fucking scared to follow through? You're fucking _scared?_ ”

Bobby stares down at Yoongi, sprawled out beneath him, and grabs him by the hair. He yanks him up from the console and jerks his head to one side, his other hand grabbing Yoongi's t-shirt, rips the neck to expose the skin of his shoulder. He bites and Yoongi laughs in approval, fingers clawing Bobby's arm and neck. “Yeah, come on, Jiwon— don't be a coward, leave a fucking mark.”

Bobby bites, leaves angry red marks in leopard spots up Yoongi's throat. He pulls his head back and bites his adams apple and Yoongi chokes, fists a hand in Bobby's hair to hold him there until he's fucking ready to let him go. Bobby leaves vicious marks because Yoongi tells him to. Because there's no one to explain anything to.

“Get off of me,” Yoongi snarls, letting go of Bobby and kicking him away, climbing off the console and ripping his shirt over his head. Bobby is doing the same and while his arms are over his head Yoongi backs him into a wall and bites his mouth, groaning when Bobby brings his arms down and pins Yoongi against him with his shirt pulled between his fists. They kiss, if it can be called kissing, and Yoongi's hands tear Bobby's belt buckle open. Bobby's hands are rough, his blunt nails dragging down Yoongi's back before he slides under his jeans and underwear to grab and squeeze his ass; it's small and tight and Bobby's fingers pull his cheeks apart and press them together, fingertips touching his hole with every press. God, this has been a long time coming back around. The tension has stretched out between them for almost two years and it's all coming to a head as Yoongi rakes his nails down Jiwon's sides just to leave welts. Jimin is out of the picture now, and Bobby is taking his chance.

“Get your mouth on my dick,” Bobby bites Yoongi's ear and Yoongi rips at his hair, biting his neck.

“Suck my ass,” he says, free hand shoving his pants down. “And I'll fucking think about it.” Bobby's faster than Yoongi and hooks the back of his knee to drop him to the floor, grinning at the cry of pain. “Fuck—”

He's trying to get up but Bobby is grabbing him by the hips and dragging him to the couch. He bullies him onto the cushions and bends him over the arm. “What—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bobby says. Yoongi tries to turn but he can't, his hips are pressed to the arm of the couch, legs tucked under himself and his back curved prettily down to the floor. He knows he's fucking pretty, whether it's cat-calls or Jimin's soft voice in the morning or his occasional one night stands Yoongi knows he's beautiful and christ. Fucking Bobby. If this was what he wanted—

Yoongi gasps when Bobby's tongue is on his ass, pushing, squirming, followed by the crack of a cap and wet, slippery gel on his hole. “You fucking—”

“Shut up,” Bobby smacks Yoongi's thigh and presses his middle finger up to the knuckle, hard and steady. “Shut the fuck up, Min Yoongi.”

“Make me,” he breathes, rocking back. He knows he's a pretty picture, he knows he's hot and Bobby's adding another finger, flexing them apart just enough to strain the muscle.

“You're loose, slut,” he says, and Yoongi laughs, gripping the arm of the couch.

“It's cos I want your dick in me,” he coos, cocking his hips and playing to Bobby's ego. “So hurry the fuck up.”

“Fuck.”

Yoongi isn't ready but Bobby's dick is slippery and hard and Yoongi groans, drops his head when he pushes in too hard and too fast, buried up to the balls and pulsing, his dick twitching. “Shit, shit,” he pants, biting Yoongi's shoulder and clawing his nails down his back to his hips. He grabs him without mercy.

“Fuck me, you piece of shit,” Yoongi snarls. He's shivering all over. Bobby's breath is hot on his neck as his hips start to snap and Yoongi clenches his teeth— he refuses to give Bobby the pleasure of listening to Yoongi lose his mind like he always does in this position. For a few minutes it's just the sound of their flesh slapping together, Bobby's panting breath. But then Bobby drags Yoongi off the couch and sits on the floor with Yoongi between his legs, on his knees. Yoongi is panting and Bobby holds him by the hips and moves him up and down. It feels good. Fuck, it feels good and Yoongi thinks to himself that Jimin was never this rough and maybe he should make Bobby angry more often if this is the result.

“Come on, Sugar,” Bobby whispers into his ear. “ _Bounce._ ”

Yoongi reaches over his head to grab at Bobby's hair and bounces himself on his dick, imagining the picture the two of them must be making— Yoongi curved one way, Bobby curved the other. “Fuck— Jiwon, _fuck,_ yes, your cock is so good.”

“S'good?” Bobby asks, biting the back of Yoongi's neck. “You like my dick? Do I fuck you better than Jimin, huh? Bet he was scared to hurt you, Min Yoongi, bet he was scared,” Bobby rips Yoongi's head back to bite viciously at his neck, his other hand reaching to pull Yoongi's cock down, letting it slap back up against his belly. Yoongi yelps and clenches up. Jimin was always gentle, it was part of who he was. He'd never treated Yoongi like this and Yoongi hates himself for enjoying it. “Good?”

“Fuck yeah,” Yoongi is panting and Bobby lets go of him, lets him lean forward on his hands, lets him work himself raw on Bobby's cock. “Fuck, love that, Jiwon—”

Bobby pushes Yoongi off his dick to spread his cheeks and spit on his gape, rubbing his tip against the wet skin before pushing back in, pinning Yoongi to the carpet, mounting him neatly. He's sitting on Yoongi's thighs and he reaches to pull his arms behind his back, pinning them at the wrist and grinning at Yoongi's groan of protest. “What, slut,” he asks, fucking into Yoongi hard and painfully slow. “You gonna let the rug get you off?”

The texture of the rug is hard and a bit sharp but Yoongi is rutting against it anyway; Yoongi is wiggling on Bobby's dick and struggling to move harder. “Fuck, Jiwon, you piece of shit—”

“What,” he asks, moving harder. Yoongi cries out and Bobby pulls harder on his arms. Yoongi is starting to clench up and his legs are struggling to separate, he's out of breath and Bobby bends down to bite and mouth at his ear. “Come on, Sugar. Cum like the bitch you are.” He spreads his legs and reaches down to grip the insides of Yoongi's thighs and yank them apart as far as he can in this position.

“ _Fuck—_ ” the next syllable is lost in Yoongi's bit-back whine, his body straining against the floor and Bobby's weight. Cum spurts into the rug and leaves his dick trapped between sticky material and sticky skin. Bobby fucks him harder and pulls out to jerk himself off on Yoongi's ass, snarling out his name before he pushes back in and Yoongi knows he must take great pleasure in the way Yoongi can't help whining, fingernails clawing the carpet. God. _God_ he loves getting fucked and maybe that's why he came here in the first place, because he knew this would happen. He knew Bobby would fuck him on the studio floor and he wanted that.

“You're as good as I knew you'd be,” Bobby pants into Yoongi's ear, rocking his hips, pressing his thumbs into the mouth-born bruises all over the man's back and neck. “Always such a thirsty bitch.”

“Get off of me,” he breathes, struggling to get up. Bobby is heavier, broader. Yoongi curses his small stature.

“No,” he says, licking Yoongi's shoulder. “Don't want to.”

“Get _off.”_

“Why?”

“Because I have to get cleaned up and leave.”

“Why do you have to leave,” Bobby asks, pressing his hips hard against Yoongi's just to hear him hiss. “You should stay. Don't have to go running home to your baby now, do you?”

“Oh get _fucked,_ ” Yoongi says.

“That's your job.”

Yoongi jerks around, or tries to. Bobby' weight on his hips and shoulders is too much, and as he's cursing about it Bobby pulls his hips back and lets him roll over onto his back. His chest and belly are viciously speckled with rugburn and his neck is a mess of bruises and bites.

“You look good,” Bobby says, and Yoongi punches him in the arm. “Ow, what.”

“I'm still fucking pissed at you, I don't care how good you fuck.”

“Maybe you need another round to change your mind,” Bobby says, smiling down at Yoongi, who glares back at him. “Later tonight. Properly. In a house. Maybe on a bed.”

“I fucking hate you,” Yoongi pants, feeling a bit lost and turned around. When had he lost control of the situation? _Probably when you let him put his dick in your ass after a year and a half of saying no,_ his brain provided. A year and a half. That's how long they've been doing this. That's how long Yoongi had been cheating on Jimin before hooking him up with Taehyung and insisting that he really was going to be happier with him (and he was, that wasn't a lie. Yoongi knew Jimin better than Jimin knew Jimin, sometimes, and he'd picked Taehyung to introduce him to for a very good reason.) A year and a half of Bobby manhandling him and he'd hoped there'd been at least a little bit of respect, at least enough to be discreet and not bring it into the music, but apparently not.

“You've been saying that for years,” Bobby rolls his eyes and Yoongi shoves him.

“Get off me.”

“Promise me you'll think about it.”

“I'll think about it. Fuck off.”

“Okay,” Bobby climbs off of Yoongi and reaches for a few tissues to get cleaned up. Yoongi watches him for a moment. Bobby's gotten taller. He scowls when Bobby drops a few tissues on his belly. “Get up, christ. What is this, your after-sex habit?”

“Well it wasn't good enough to warrant a cigarette,” Yoongi sneers. Bobby scowls.

“Get the fuck out of my studio.”

Yoongi can't move fast enough. Between trying to get clean enough to be comfortable in clothes and ignoring the tension between himself and Bobby building itself up like a fucking fortress, he doesn't have time to notice the way Bobby is fiddling with something on the shelf, doesn't think about the way Bobby is looking at him.

Bobby catches him by the shoulder just as he reaches the door. He yanks him back and presses a warm, sucking kiss to his neck. “Lets do this again soon,” he says, and god, _god_ Yoongi is thinking about it, thinking about Bobby's white teeth in his neck and his hands on Yoongi's waist and his cock inside of him and shit. Shit, this was not supposed to happen.

“Get fucked.”

“Your job.”

Yoongi's face blushes a fierce red as he stalks out of the room and leaves Bobby behind just like the last time he did when they did this. Only at least last time they were at Bobby's apartment, and Yoongi hadn't felt so fucking gross as he does now: like he'd been tricked into something, like he'd made a goddamned fool of himself.

Bobby watches him go and smirks, leaning back in his chair and sliding an sd card into it's designated slot in his computer, clicking a file open. It had been good of Zico to warn him that Yoongi was coming.

Yoongi's just as pretty on camera as he is in real life and as long as he's going to be a bitch about hooking up with him, Bobby's going to keep recording their encounters. Who knows. They might be useful someday—like the time Jimin finally confronted Bobby and Bobby'd had the pleasure of showing him _exactly_ what Yoongi turned into when Bobby's dick was in his ass.

 _He's a fucking slut,_ Bobby had said. _And you know damned well you're never going to fuck him like I fuck him._ He supposed he should have felt guilty. It had been the beginning of the end for Yoongi and Jimin, but what made it pathetic was that Yoongi _loved_ Jimin; he just liked fucking Bobby. It had been clear in how soft Yoongi always was with him, even as their relationship ended. They were still friends, they still talked, and Jimin never said a goddamned word because he was a better person than both of them and Bobby supposed he should be thankful.

Now that Jimin was with Taehyung and out of the way, Bobby was going to take Min Yoongi for himself.

He couldn't fucking wait.

 


End file.
